A Real Cowboy Loves Forever (Wyoming Rebels Book 5) Page 10

  Maddox nodded. "The milk should be hot by now." He stood up. "Sit. I'll bring it out."

  He was past her and into the kitchen before she could reply, leaving her standing there.

  She could either duck back into her bedroom and leave him with two mugs of hot chocolate when he walked out, or she could summon the nerve to go sit on the couch.

  She wanted to sit on the couch with him. She really did. But, God, she wanted to almost too much. What was she doing?

  Hannah closed her eyes, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. It was suddenly racing, because she was remembering the two times he had kissed her before she had gotten sick. Nothing else had happened since then, partly because they'd been sharing the room with Ava, and, of course, because she had felt like she was dying.

  But Ava wasn't in the room with them, and her body no longer felt like ten thousand pounds of lethargy.

  She took a deep breath, trying to think rationally. She could sit on the couch with him, and that would be purely platonic and safe, right? Right.

  But what if something happened with him? What if he tried to kiss her? What if his arm was too tempting for her not to run her fingers over it? Her heart started to pound even harder. What if he tried to kiss her again? She didn't even need to ask that question. She knew she would kiss him back. Despite all her determination not to get involved with a man, not to trust a guy, and not to bring one into her and Ava's life, she knew that the last two days of Maddox's caretaking had whittled down the wall she kept erected so carefully around her.

  She wanted desperately to sit on the couch with him. To spend one evening wrapped up in him, before he left. The snow had stopped that morning, and the wind had finally died down. Maddox had talked to Chase, and it sounded like they would probably be plowed out tomorrow, which meant this might be her last opportunity with Maddox, her last moment to breathe in how he made her feel.

  The kitchen door opened, and she jumped, startled as he appeared next to her. He had a mug in each hand, with steam spiraling off them. His eyebrows went up, and his gaze settled on her face. She knew he was reading every emotion she was feeling, because she had no ability to hide them.

  Silently, he set one of the mugs in her hand. Her fingers closed around the handle, brushing against his palm. Electricity jumped in her belly, but before she could panic, he slid his hand along her jaw, and bent his head.

  Dear God. He was going to kiss her, and they weren't even on the couch yet. How could he want to kiss her? She hadn't showered in two days, she was wearing baggy jeans and a sweatshirt, she had no makeup on, and her hair was a disaster. There was nothing remotely sexy or appealing about her right now. There was no possible way he actually wanted to kiss her—

  His mouth paused a breath from hers, his lips hovering just over hers, teasing her, but not touching. "I've been wanting to kiss you for two days," he whispered.

  He wanted to kiss her. Her stomach leapt, and her fingers curled, the urge to touch him almost too much to resist. She swallowed. She wanted to say yes. Desperately. But fear clamped around her chest, and she couldn't get the words out. She simply couldn't say yes, and tell him it would be okay for him to kiss her.

  For a long moment, they stood there in silence, and then he pulled back, searching her face. "You're a wise woman," he said softly.

  As he moved past her to the couch, she wanted to grab his arm and pull him back, to ask him to pose the question again, to give her another chance to answer. But she didn't. She just stood there, clutching her mug, like some panic-stricken fool who couldn't function in the presence of a man.

  Maddox sat down at the end of the couch, his forearms braced on his thighs, his fingers wrapped around the mug of hot chocolate. He bowed his head, so she couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were tense, and his grip on the mug was tight.

  Suddenly, she forgot to be afraid of him. She saw only a man who'd given all of who he was to her and Ava for the last two days, a man who she'd just insulted by being terrified of him. Maybe she didn't want to get romantically involved with him. Maybe he did have shadows that were very dark and haunted. But the truth was that she had never felt as safe in her life as she had these last two days. Never. And she had thanked him by making him feel like she saw him as a monster.

  With a nervous sigh, she walked over to the couch and sat down beside him. Not at the far end of it, but in the middle, close enough to let him know that she wasn't trying to put a chasm between them. "Maddox?"

  He didn't look up. "Yeah?"

  "It's not you. It's not you that I'm afraid of. It's…an instinctive reaction that grabs me, I don't know how to stop it. But the truth is, I've spent my whole life feeling unsafe. Pretty much every minute of every day has been overshadowed by a need to keep looking over my shoulder, to keep people at a distance, to protect myself."

  He looked up at her then, not moving, except to turn his head to look at her. There were so many shadows in his eyes, so much darkness, like the nightmares that chased her all the time. He didn't say anything. He just looked at her, waiting for her to finish.

  "But…" She hesitated, unsure how to articulate what she wanted him to know. "These last few days with you, even when I was so sick, trapped in the storm, without electricity…" She shrugged, tracing her finger over the rim of her mug. "I just…" She finally looked up, needing to see him, to meet his gaze as she spoke. "These last few days," she whispered, her voice almost breaking, "I felt truly safe for the first time that I can remember. I will never forget that gift you gave us, that ability to let go, and stop flinching at every shadow. I haven't heard Ava laugh for a long time, and I know that you have made her feel safe as well. It's a gift, Maddox, a gift that I could never repay you for. It gives me hope that maybe some time, someday, Ava could live in a world where she feels brave and confident, not the world that I grew up in."

  Maddox studied her for a long moment, his stare so intent that it seemed to penetrate the deepest, coldest recesses of her soul. "What happened to you? What happened to Ava? What are you running from?"

  Hannah's throat tightened at the gentleness in his voice, at the raw caring in his eyes. Tears swam in her eyes, and she had to look away as she fought for composure. "I don't like to talk about it—" She froze when she felt his hand in her hair.

  She closed her eyes, desperately focusing on the feel of his fingers in the strands, ever so gently tucking her hair behind her ear, pulling it away from her face. His finger traced along her jaw, a touch so tender that she held her breath, unable to focus on anything but the way her entire body reverberated in response.

  "Tell me." His voice was gentle, but there was an urgency to it, almost as if he needed to know for his own survival.

  Her eyes opened, and she looked at him. His face was inches from hers, his eyes turbulent and dark. There was anger in there, a controlled, suppressed anger, which should have scared her. Somehow she knew that anger was on her behalf, and would be harnessed only to protect her and Ava. A strength that would be wielded in her defense.

  Suddenly, a need to tell him welled up inside her, an almost desperate need to unload it into his strong, capable being, as if telling him would somehow pour his strength into her, and make her better able to face it, and triumph over it.

  She swallowed. "Six months ago—" She stopped when he shook his head. "You don't want to know? I thought you—"

  "Tell me from the start," he said. "The shadows in your eyes are much older than six months. I want to know it all."

  The genuine need in his voice made tears swim even more fiercely in her eyes. He cared. He wanted to know. She could tell he meant it. And suddenly, she wanted to pour it all out to him. She wanted to unload everything onto his capable shoulders, as if putting it into words would give her the answers that had evaded her for so long. She managed a small smile. "It's a long story," she said. "Complicated, boring, and in the past."

  Maddox searched her face, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, a
s he sorted through everything that she had mentioned to him in this conversation, and during all the other times that they'd been together over the last few days. Finally, he spoke. "Tell me what happened six months ago, then. One sentence. Put it into one sentence."

  One sentence. Surely, she could handle one sentence, right? She swallowed, and looked down at her steaming mug of hot chocolate. It felt so incongruous to be sipping the most delicious hot chocolate, while ugly images formed in her mind. She took a deep breath. "My sister…" Tears started to fall down her cheeks, and suddenly she couldn't speak. God, she had kept it in for so long, that merely saying those two words made the grief tear through her, grief she had refused to acknowledge, because she'd been so focused on survival, and trying to make things right for Ava.

  With a low sigh, he took her hot chocolate from her hands and set it on the table next to his mug. Then he wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her against him. She squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed her face into the curve of his neck, fighting against the sobs trying to take her. His body was so warm and strong, somehow holding her up as the memories came flooding back, every little detail that she had forgotten for so long, filling her mind in the most horrible of ways.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her, like steel shields protecting her from the world. "Tell me, sweetheart. Get it out of your heart, so you can live again."

  Hannah took a deep, shuddering breath, her chest so tight she could barely get the oxygen into her lungs. Maddox's words settled into her, and she knew he was right. She had to tell someone, and that someone was him, and the time was now.

  Chapter 14

  Anticipation hummed through Maddox as he saw Hannah settle. She was going to tell him. For two days, he'd wondered about the little girl who wouldn't talk, who always had to be near him or Hannah, who cried out in her sleep and clung to him when he comforted her. He'd wondered about the fiercely courageous woman who had been so exhausted she'd spent eighteen consecutive hours pretty much asleep. He wanted to know what nightmares haunted them, and he wanted to make their pain go away.

  Hannah lifted her chin, and he saw the determination in her eyes. His heart softened. "So courageous," he said softly, fingering a lock of her hair as she looked at him.

  She was so close to him, only inches away, and her hand was wrapped around his wrist. He didn't think she was even aware that she was holding onto him, but he knew. He liked it. He knew he shouldn't be getting involved with them, but he was stuck there, and while he was there, he was going to bask in every moment he had with them.

  Hannah sighed. "Not so brave," she said softly. "Just a survivor."

  "It takes courage to survive," he said. "What happened six months ago?"

  Tears swam in her eyes, tears of such grief that something inside him turned over. It made him think of the day he'd found his mother dead on the couch. He had shut down his tears that day, and never let them come back. But the vulnerability Hannah was sharing with him made him want to be soft for her, to somehow be what she needed.

  "My sister, Katie, was murdered by her ex-boyfriend. Ava is her daughter. Mine, now."

  Shit. His fingers tightened in her hair, and his jaw tensed. He wanted to rage. He wanted to shout. He wanted to fight against how brutal the world was. But Hannah was watching him as if he were her only source of strength to keep going, so he took a deep breath and shoved his rage deep inside, as he had so many times during his life. "What happened?"

  "She had broken up with Rick a few months before, because she was getting the sense that he was...unstable. Aggressive. He hit her once, and I talked her into leaving him. Of course, he didn't want to let her go, and he started pressuring her to come back. He was devastated by her leaving, and Katie felt bad." A tear spilled down her cheeks. "I tried to keep her from going to see him, but she felt terrible that he was suffering. He promised he would change, and he kept saying that until she believed him. She wanted to help him, because she was that kind of person. So, she left Ava with me and went to his apartment to see him. It was just supposed to be a quick dinner, but she didn't come back."

  Maddox swore silently, but he stayed still, aware of how tightly Hannah was gripping his wrist.

  "When she didn't return, I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't take Ava over there, you know? So, I called the police and reported a domestic disturbance at his address. They got there just as Rick was... God... just as he was carrying her down the back stairs to his car. She was already unconscious, and she never woke up. She died three days later in the hospital. Rick said she'd fallen down the stairs and he was trying to help her, but I know he was lying. She was too bruised and battered for a simple fall down the stairs." Hanna's voice shook as she replayed that story. The grief from those three days, the terror of how she could go on without her sister, her fear for Ava, the loneliness, the emotions she'd fought to suppress, that she'd fought to ignore. "I took Ava to see her, to say goodbye. I didn't know if I should, but I felt like she needed to see her mom one last time, you know? How could I deprive her of that? But now...God...she hasn't said a word since." She looked up at Maddox, the grief tearing through her. "I don't know how to help her. I don't know how to fix things for Ava. I don't know... God, Maddox, I miss my sister."

  Maddox swore under his breath, and reached out, drawing her into his arms. She collapsed into him, burying her face in the curve of his neck, letting the strength of his arms surround her.

  "I made a mistake," she whispered, barely able to talk through her tears. "I shouldn't have let Katie go see him, and maybe I shouldn't have let Ava see her mom in the hospital. They're all I have, all that matters to me, and because of my mistakes, Katie's dead, and Ava lost her mom and won't even talk." Her voice shook desperately, and grief assaulted her.

  Grief.

  Guilt.

  Loneliness.

  The deep anguish of loss that ripped away at her shields and left her gasping for air, for life, for some sliver of hope that would get her through the next day, and the day after that. "I tried to fix it. I pressured the police, and they eventually arrested him for voluntary manslaughter. I stayed in town long enough to testify last week, and then we left. I wanted to do that for Katie, but God, seeing him in that courtroom..." She shivered, remembering the look of pure venom on his face. "He's sitting there, alive and smug, and blaming me, while my beautiful sister is gone, and her daughter, God, Ava...I don't know how to help her."

  Maddox had never wanted to be more than who he was than he did in that moment. He wanted to ease her pain, to somehow pry her from the grip of her grief and guilt. He wanted to save her and Ava, to somehow spare them from the violence that had found them...but he couldn't. He was just a piece of shit born from the same violence that had stolen everything from them.

  But there was one thing he knew for absolute certain, and he needed her to understand it. He knew he could give her this much. He slid his fingers through her hair as he brushed a kiss over the top of her head. "Listen to me, Hannah," he said, his throat raw with emotion he wouldn't allow himself to feel. "There's only one person responsible for what happened to Katie, and that's the bastard who hurt her. No one else is to blame. Not Katie for going there, not you for not stopping her. Only him. You live with the purest beauty in your soul, and you can't let some piece of shit take that away from you—"

  She sat up, tears streaming down her face. "How can you say that? How can you say that it's not my fault, when I could have made different choices that would have meant Katie would still be alive?"

  Darkness settled inside him, a dark ugly truth that made his skin crawl. "How do I know? Because my father killed my mother, and I didn't save her. I blamed myself for her death for years until I finally figured out that the only one who did something was him. He did it. He killed her. He is responsible."

  Hannah lifted her head, searching his face desperately, as if hoping that somehow, someway, he had the key to save her from the haunting guilt and
pain inside her.

  He slid his hand along her jaw, his fingers brushing over the softness of her skin. "Sweetheart, I've lived in the shadow of his poison my whole life, and I've lived the carnage of what he left behind. If there is one thing I know, the only one responsible for his actions is him. No one else. Not ever. Sometimes we get lucky, and we can interfere and protect others from bastards like that, but if we can't find a way to stop them, to save those they hurt, it's not our fault. It's not our fault."

  Hannah stared at Maddox in shock, stunned by his story, by his guilt, by his loss, by the fact he'd faced the same kind of death that she'd dealt with. She'd lived her life trapped by the darkness of what had happened to Katie, and to her mother before her, but she'd lived in silence, afraid to talk about it, afraid to look it in the face and acknowledge how much it scared her... and yet here was Maddox, who had experienced the same thing. Suddenly, for the first time since Katie had died, she didn't feel so alone. "After a string of abusive boyfriends, my mom was killed in a car accident when her drunk boyfriend crashed the car," she whispered. "I was sixteen, and Katie was twelve. How old were you when your mom died?"

  Maddox's face softened, and he touched her cheek. "Seven."

  "Seven," she whispered. He'd only been seven. "Who did you live with then?"

  "My dad."

  She stared at him in shock. "I don't understand. Why didn't they take you away from him?"

  "Because that wasn't how this town worked back then," he said. "Besides, I had eight brothers around to support me, including my twin brother, Ryder. They were my family, and I'd rather have stayed there with them and my dad than to try to fend for life by myself. I needed my brothers." He studied her. "Where did you live?"

  "They split us up in foster care, so we ran away. After a few months, we hooked up with a group of kids living under a bridge in Chicago, and they took us in. There were nine of them, all runaways. They'd all taken the last name of Hart, creating the family that none of them had. We stayed with them for about a year, but as soon as I turned eighteen, I moved us to Boston and started college, working during the day and taking online classes until she was big enough to stay home alone at night while I went to school." She bit her lip, remembering those first nights when she and Katie had been living on the streets. "I never would have made it without them," she said softly, tears burning in her eyes. "Life was so much better sleeping under that bridge with the Harts, than it was living in foster homes without Katie."